


lovely bloodflow

by redlight



Series: monsterfuckers inc. [3]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Breeding Kink, Canon Non-Binary Character, Crying, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Knotting, Mind Break, Mind Games, Other, Psychological Trauma, Sex Magic, Surreal, Surreal horror, Teratophilia, Vaginal Sex, afab asra, cw for insect mentions, dead dove do not eat, everyone shut the fuck up im venting, once again gonna emphasize the BREEDING KINK, they/them pronouns for Asra, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-27 12:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20760275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redlight/pseuds/redlight
Summary: Asra makes a deal with the Magician. The cost doesn't matter: they just don’t want to be alone anymore.





	lovely bloodflow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KitschyKit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitschyKit/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Mirror Image](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18662221) by [KitschyKit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KitschyKit/pseuds/KitschyKit). 

> special thanks to my favorite monsterfucking furry @Kearatheshadow for dealing with my bullshit and enabling me to the highest degree, i love you
> 
> here's asra suffering; please mind the tags.

> [lovely bloodflow - baths](https://youtu.be/QtTpszuKXqA)

✶

They _ache _as they make the deal, and it never really goes away after that.

Asra aches inside, tangled up the realm of the Arcane like this. Their teeth feel rotted and maggots crawl through their guts if they think of it too long, but then they open their eyes to starry nights and lovely sights, warmth in the depth of their belly, so they must be safe.

The realm of the Arcana is meant to be safe, isn't it? The Magician said they'd keep Asra safe, and as safe as Asra was promised, they don't really sink into it.

Asra blinks and tries to open their eyes. Asra sighs and tries to open their mouth. Something inside them is a dream burst open, as the tendrils and hooks of the realm overtake them, and all they can do is—

Well, their head aches. They hurt somewhere, in the inside of their ribs. They can't quite remember what they made a deal for, but the Magician, the Magician won't cast them away—

Asra _aches _inside.

Their vision is a swarm of purple and bitter, their ribs seem to slide open to let magic upon magic upon magic upon magic upon magic upon magic

_inside_.

It all seems to be inside.

They float in their own soreness, they inhale their own choked breath. Asra's eyes flutter, their magic hums, and they try to sink back into the physical world as best they can—

Chains rattle. Mud clings to their skin, dragging them down. There is a buzz of damselflies in their ear drums, slamming wings against minuscule bones, the aural nerve ending, a map throughout Asra's body—

Since when they felt too small, they can't remember. They can't remember when the clouds turned to a test table. All they know is that cattail vines wrap around their thighs, all they know is that they're being spread open open open—

The Magician said, _oh, little one, you don't know what deal you've just made, _but Asra just wants their love back.

Any price is worth it.

Even if something slick and slime-ridden sticks to their mouth. Even if they're suddenly opened up too wide, too sticky, as their thighs shake and tremble and they're too bare, too bare, where have their clothes gone? The price is worth it, except for the flies buzzing around, picking into their flesh, a hot hot hot tongue lapping up at the soft space between their legs—

_Oh, little one, _says the Magician. _Just let go._

Asra sobs and lets their thighs fall open.

Their cunt aches, their head _aches_, everything is—_wait—_

"Wait," they hiccup out, but—

The Magician pauses. Gives Asra a sordid, pitying grin.

_The deal is made, little rabbit. It must be codified_.

Breathing here is like breathing in tar. The Magician’s realm has been a hideaway home and a maze, a runaway’s haven, but now their oxygen is dwindling, their lungs are aquiver.

It’s hard, for Asra to realize how small they are here—smaller than they’ve felt in a decade, swallowed up by waves and pillars too tall to even dream of reaching. They’ve made a business and a trade and a tool out of their skill in magic, but when they try to call upon it, it—

It dissipates.

They haven’t been so helpless in years.

The Magician’s snout nudges wetly against Asra’s hair, canine teeth grazing their flushed cheek.

The Magician speaks now.

_“Do you think, my little apprentice, that this is a good idea still?” _Claws mark circles into Asra’s skin. _“In a reality outside of your own? Helpless.”_

Asra hiccups, their shoulders raised high to their ears as though they can hide themself somehow.

But the Magician has made a deal and they have come to collect.

✶

Asra is a fossil within in their own body.

Bones pitted deep in mud, silt, and stone. Long ago lust and perfectly dead, raised up from the ground to be celebrated in their opalescent new half-life.

They are mud reborn.

The Magician knows this—the Magician only knows everything. And Asra, for all they're buried in dirt and sand and blind to the surface and the atmosphere, the Magician will dig them up. Even when Asra's flesh is decomposed and their ribs are cracked open, the Magician will still slip inside their wounds and sutures.

Without barrier, the Magician will take them. Skin is nothing to them, and flesh even less. Asra didn't think themself a corpse but they don't know when their breath was stolen. And the Magician, they are always greedy when they open Asra wide.

They touch the hot, soft places where Asra flinches, they nudge their heavy snout where it was unintended, Asra was never _made _to be this—a chewtoy made of marshmallow fluff and soil, but they called for help and it is here and here is how the Magician helps.

Their snout is hot and slipping across Asra's skin, too animalistic and wracking sick-shivers across their body, rainwater in a landslide, their body is a natural disaster slipping from their bones to reveal their insides of magic and gore—

—and they sob softly, chest shaking apart, for they are not physical here. Fossilized and extinct, an impression for the future and a corpse for the present, Asra has craved for years more than physical. For years they yearned for the love of their dissipated parents, once again, for the hold of their beloved apprentice, once again. Even with Ilya, poor piteous Ilya, who craved anything with love and all Asra was the physical, the pain, the need—

Here that is nothing. Their sniffles and trembling are nothing. They sink into the sand when the Magician fucks into them, aloof to their noises, hungry for their flesh, and Asra opens their eyes to a pillar collapsing in their ribs. The fine five points of faith in their fingertips shatter with each declaration of a deal, _I just want them back, I just want them back, my love, my heart, my everything—_every desperation is a promise broken in half.

The Magician may be a gentle lover by the standards of Arcane, but they are rough on human soul and skin. And Asra, for as disconnected and desolated they feel from their humanity, they didn't want this, maybe. But maybe they did. The Magician prepared them, but in the land of unphysical it won't be enough. Asra is bare and barren here, from how the Magician rearranges their skeletal structure and opens their marrow to eat. They are prey here, a rabbit in claws.

They are love here, this is love, they are kin and this is kin, but mostly it is magic and it is feral.

Asra is a well of bones and the fox must feed. "_Do you feel your love yet?" _asks the Magician. "_Have you found your answers, little one?"_ and Asra hiccups because their insides hurt and their soul is sore. Their cunt aches like injury where the Magician bruises into them, as a hot rough tongue laps at their salt-lick cheeks and their worn-down skin.

This is love, they are love, _they are love—_

✶

Asra can't feel their toes. There's only the rush and rigor of a cock inside them, stretching them to the point of pain.

The Magician's cock scrapes through them, hot and heavy and head-spinning, and Asra isn't sure where the breath in their lungs has gone, isn't sure whether their body is moving right, but they know their hole is slick and hot and leaking—

They're dizzy.

The mud sticks to their cheeks and their little hole spreads open painfully as the Magician thrusts themself even further inside. Asra thinks they can feel it in their ribs, almost, that they've become skeletal remains to fuck and desecrate, but that's not true, because the Magician is rumbling in their ears,

_"Feel that, little rabbit? So desperate, so needy, everything you need is right here and you open up for it so quick, have you found what you were looking for or did you just need to be ruined?"_

Asra sobs, tastes salt and wet on their lips. Every harsh thrust inside has their pussy clenching, quivering, and they haven't been fucked like this _ever_, with their guts dripping out of their ears and earthworms on their skin, they've never been so filthy, so ruined—

Asra whines softly as they hear how wet their little cunt is—held open and filthy for the fox's whims, squeezing and needy and—

_"Do you need more, little one? Will this ever be enough?"_

No, Asra sobs out, but no voice comes from their lips, and they don't know where they are or how they're alive. They just feel the heavy weight of a knot _pushing _against their hole and they sniffle.

_"I think you need to ask for it, little one."_

So Asra breaks.

"—please!" they sob, lungs collapsing, ankles twisting. "_Please_, p-please, f-fill me up, I d-don't have enough, _nothing e-ever stays inside me I n-need it—" _They're bawling and it _hurts it hurts_. "P-please love me please fill me _please never make it go away—"_

Claws scrape up the heaving expanse of Asra's tummy, press _down down down _and Asra gasps and hiccups 'cause they _feel it, they feel so full they're swelling—_

They're not sure if the knot is real or if they're imagining it, they're not sure if anything is real, _nothing is physical_ but nothing is _here_, and Asra sobs and clings to the Magician as their canine teeth scrape holes into their skin, Asra sobs and feels so little in control they can't _breathe_—

They almost think the knot breaks them. It's too, too big for their cunt, stretching them open painfully but they _need it they need this_, need to be filled, and their pussy is dripping so much and their thighs are aching and shaking and _slick_. The fox is pressing so deep inside them, their clit is _throbbing_, everything is _wet _and gritted dirt sticks to every part of them, it's all too _much_.

_"You'd like the life of your Apprentice back, don't you, my little one? Life can only be granted by the exchange of life." _Their claws dig into Asra's stomach. _"Would you do that? Give me a life?"_

Asra almost chokes on the bile in their throat. "L-life?"

The fox grimaces, or it grins.

_"Life. Would you carry it?"_

Asra's head _spins_ and they sob even more. They don't want to. _They don't want to they don't want to they don't—_

But they need their love back, don't they?

The Magician seems to sense Asra's distress and pants against their skin, burning hot, mischievous rumbling laughter ringing in the shadows. They rumble dark and ocean deep and Asra can only whimper.

_"Perhaps, little one, you should just ask to be bred."_

Their cheeks are soaked with tears, their insides consumed with doubt and fear and need and _desire_. "J-just—do it, I just w-want them back, just do a-anything you want—_w-whatever it takes, please—_"

The fox hums, almost gleeful, almost sorrowful. _"That's not how a deal is made, rabbit. You have to consent. You have to tell me you want it."_

Asra, for all they're terrified, for all they're _drowning _from over-sensitivity and over-pleasure and the feeling of breaking down, they—

They know it's dangerous, to hand themself over so completely to magic, but they just want their love _back_.

They just don't want to be alone anymore.

"P-please. Please breed me." Asra sniffles and jerks their hips with a yelp when the Magician _ruts _into them. "Please please please—I wanna be filled up _don't wanna be alone don't wanna be alone anymore—breed me up please—"_

The Magician's claws are practically buzzing as they touch Asra's poor, neglected clit, and _that_ has Asra shivering apart and shaking their head back and forth, _too much too much too much _as their knot swells and swells and plugs their hole _deep_—

The fox's come is liquid fire inside them, heated against the bruised insides of their pussy, weighing down their stomach with how _much _of it there is.

And that’s—that’s what pushes them, really. They’re being _bred_—Asra is the Magician’s little rabbit now, meant to be filled up, giving them bunnies, _a deal is a deal is a deal is a deal—_

They scream when they come.

It runs through Asra like oil into their veins, sets a blaze in their mind, and they pass out.

✶

The dust clears away and wet sand is stripped from their skin. Asra sits, dazed and delirious, chest heaving and feet bare in the lagoon of the Magician's realm.

_"Have you received your answers, little rabbit?"_ the fox asks with teeth. Asra feels the imprint of bites in their spine and femurs.

"No," they say, fur in their ears and mud in between their toes. They press their hand against their heart, their new mark pulsing hot beneath their skin. Asra shakingly trails their fingers down to their full stomach. "No, no, I—Master, could you please teach me?"

Canine teeth and slick-wet nose swipes against Asra's skin, makes them shiver, makes them open their thighs again. They’re dripping come, slick, and mud all over, fossilized as their own demise.

_"Why, of course, little one. We'll repeat the lesson as many times as you need."  
_

✶


End file.
